Wasting Your Time
by weeds
Summary: No one knows a man better than the woman who shares his bed. POST SERIES. Ayame


AN: Characters do not belong to me, those words do, however.

Kouga feels her stir underneath his body, not unlike a cat he tells himself. She purrs softly too, he notes when he nuzzles into her neck and he can't help the smile spreading on his features. It's been quite some time since she's let him hold her or let their limbs tangled together this way, so intimately. He missed this, he missed her so much more than anything else, even if she has never left his sides since 4 years. No, he still misses _her_ more.

"When will it be _my_ name on your lips?"

He lifts his head to stare at her, willing his unease to disappear and allow his mouth to function, properly preferably. She tires of his silence, he guesses, and pushes him off, a small release of her breath hitting his shoulder.

"Go. Away."

She grinds out between gritted teeth, sinking down into the furs and bringing another one up to her chin. She has her back facing him now but he doesn't need to see her glare, he feels the anger radiating from her body. Really, his optimistic nature will be his downfall. Either that, or women. Two women. The one in his bed and the one on his mind.

He doesn't bother saying he's sorry, or coming up with lame excuses and explanations, not anymore. He's done that in the past, so many times she refused to listen to him after a few months. As he gathers his clothes to put on before leaving the cave, he thinks about all he's told her so far. Maybe he forgot something, maybe he could use it next time, who knows. It's not like he's cheating on her. Nothing ever happened with _her_. He chose her in the end, didn't he. Done and over done, each and every one of them, he figures.

He leaves without a look over his shoulder, without a word. They've done this too many times. It will be morning soon and she'll have forgotten all by then. Hopefully. He reminds himself, almost in a scold, that females are unpredictable creatures, this one especially. What got into him when he chose her... He stumbles over a set of legs, cursing and almost losing his balance. He curses one more for good figure and kicks a body, ignoring whether the legs belonged to this mass or the other one.

"Damn rain. Making you guys stink up the whole cave."

He accuses softly and his grin returns at the indignant whines echoing around him. He doesn't like the transition between spring and summer. Raining all the time. Damn mountains. He could bolt out of the den and find a tree to spend the rest of the night in; but then, he'd be drenched before he could reach a secure branch. He plops down near the entrance and regrets not strapping on his armor, or even grabbing some fur. He rests his elbow on his knee, his palm cupping his chin, and he stays here, brooding, cursing, sulking and damning everything and everyone to hell, even her and _her_.

He snorts and leans against the moist wall of the cave, crossing his arms over his chest. Four years have passed and victory still lingers in the air, but the taste is sour. So sour that some times ago he'd often find himself wishing he hadn't won at all. Did he really win anyway? Out of the bunch, he's probably the only one wondering that. Dog-breath got the finest part of the victory and he, Kouga, was left with... Hmm. Something different. He was luckier than Naraku anyway. He had to remember this. He was alive while the detestable hanyou was long dead. Kouga had been there for the final battle, _she_ had gone for the kill with her purifying arrows, leaving nothing left of the monster. But robbing him of his duty, his vengeance.

A frown deepens on his face and he stands, fists on hips and walks to the mouth of the den, the rain splashing at his feet. Then, he moved here, in the mountains. It was temporary, he was told, just to stop the tribes from killing each other and then he was free to go do whatever he wanted, pursue whatever adventure he so desired. But there was nothing left to chase after, not even _her_. She had vanished into thin air when Dog-breath got his wish. Damn dog. The rage he had felt when he watched _her_ turn into mist. In the end it changed into simple anger and resentment. Nothing more. Just like his love for _her_ turned into a simple souvenir. Something he picks up from the depth of his brain to linger on and then pushes back where it was, and now belongs to. Sometimes he can't help the guilt creep up his throat from the pit of his stomach. It had all gone so fast. A few more years and he would forget _her_ face. Even saying _her_ name was becoming rather strange, like she had never really been there in the first place. Like he had always lived here. He doesn't hear the soft feet padding behind him and he gives a small start when she wraps her arms around his torso, her cheek rubbing against his back.

He takes the small hands resting on his chest into his own and squeezes them once. He forgot her too at one point and then he remembered. Or she made him remember. Whichever, it worked to serve them both. She had what she wanted and he could taste what he had wanted at some point with _her_. This thought brings out another kind of guilt. This time, he really does feel like he's betraying her, the woman who's done so much for him.

"Ayame."

"Hmm."

"I love you."

"I know that. Baka. Come back to bed."

"Hmph."

Her fingers cease drawing patterns on his skin and then she laughs, before kissing his shoulder and leaves him. He had half expected her to ignore him, but after all she had come to get him tonight. She had never done so before. She was usually giving him the cold shoulder and ignoring his existence for a few days, sometimes weeks. He turns and follows her back to their bed anyway. He watches her lay back down and make herself comfortable. He truly loves her. The words were nothing but formality before but now he does mean them. How could he not? And how could he have spent so many years wasting her time, wasting her love and attention. How could he have wasted his own time on something as stupid as his male ego? The other girl was nothing but a challenge, wasn't she. He would spend weeks without seeing _her_, then he'd find _her_, try to hold _her_. All just to spite the damn dog, wasn't it. While Ayame, she was a constant presence, ever since she had left those very mountains to bring him back. If not in person, at least in his mind. Did she even know? Had he shown her ever? Would she forgive him eventually? Would her love last as long as their lives? Or maybe beyond that?

"Yes."

"What?" He croaks out and clumsily lowering himself down on the bed of furs, he lands on his knees.

"Sleep now, Kouga."

He watches her warily, expecting her to turn around and send his head rolling to the floor. Mind-reading creatures were never sensible, nor loving ones. Maybe she was possessed, too. That would explain all those times she had him sleep outside, just because she would say.

"Females... I'll never understand you."

He decides to settle for the easier conclusion. He snorts, shaking his head and burrows under the fur. He closes his eyes, hoping the sun will not rise so early today, only to open them again when he feels her body curling against his back. He lets her wrap an arm around his middle, sleep coming back to claim him already.

"It's alright, because after all, no one understands you better than I do. Not even _her_."


End file.
